I bolted upright. “Can you repeat that?”
“The Fosters had another son.”
“No way.”
“Way.” I heard her fingernails clicking on the keyboard as she worked her magic. “Very much way.”
“After Reyes?”
“Yes. Three years after the abduction.”
“Do you know what this means?” I asked, my awe matching her own.
“I certainly do.”
“Reyes Farrow—”
“—has a brother.”
#Holyshit.
2
Note to self: Thanks for always being there.
—T-SHIRT
I sat stewing in a foggy kind of astonishment. Cook did, too. We sat in absolute silence, broken only by the sound of Cheez-Its crunching between my teeth, for several tense seconds.
“Are you still on your stakeout?” Cookie asked at last.
I swallowed. “Yes. I think Mrs. Foster came home, but her garage door closed before I could catch a glimpse. I have, however, bonded with the na**d dead man in my passenger seat.”
“Well, there’s that.”
“Right? He has a tat. I’m sending you a picture.”
“Of his tat?” she asked, surprised.
“Of my drawing of his tat. Hold on.” I sent the pic with the caption Don’t judge underneath it. “Okay, how are things back at the fort?”
“A Mr. Joyce came in and insisted on seeing you today. He seemed really agitated. He wouldn’t leave his number or anything. I told him you’d be back this afternoon. Is this a new kind of Rorschach test?” She was referring to my drawing.
“Turn it sideways.”
“Oh, okay. Andrulis.”
“Do you know him?” I asked, my voice edged with hope.
“Nope. Sorry. I knew an Andrus once. He was hairy.”
I checked out Mr. A. “This guy isn’t that hairy. He is well endowed, though.”
“Charley,” she said, appalled. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Dude, it’s right there. It’s not like I can miss it.”
“Oh, poor man. How would you like to be walking around na**d for all eternity?”
“You just described my worst nightmare.”
“I thought your worst nightmare was that one where you are eating a hot pickle and it burned your lips and they swelled until you looked like you’d had injections.”
“Oh, yeah, there’s that one, too. Thanks for bringing all that back up again. I should sleep beautifully tonight.”
“Did you call your uncle?”
My uncle Bob, a detective for the Albuquerque Police Department, had the hots for Cookie, and Cookie had the hots for him—but neither one would make the first move. I got so tired of watching them pine for each other that I decided to do something about it. I set Cookie up on a date with a friend of mine to make Uncle Bob, or Ubie as I liked to call him in my therapy sessions while trying to explain why I had a debilitating fear of mustaches, jealous. Maybe a little competition would light a fire under his ass. The same ass Cookie had a major thing for.
“Sure did. How’s our plan coming along?”
“You mean your plan?”
“Fine, how’s my plan coming along?”
“I don’t know about this, Charley. I mean, if Robert wanted to go out with me, he’d ask, right? I’m not sure trying to make him jealous is a good idea.”
It always took me a minute to figure out who Robert was. “Are you kidding? It’s a fantastic idea. It’s Uncle Bob we’re talking about here. He needs motivation.” I gave one last glance to the Fosters’ house before driving off.
“What if he loses interest?”
“Cook, have you ever lost interest in a pair of shoes because someone else was looking at them?”
“I guess not.”
“Didn’t it make you want them even more?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
I turned onto Juan Tabo and started back toward the office. “Okay, I’m headed that way. How about lunch?”
“Sounds good. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
My office was on the second floor of the best brewery the Duke City had to offer. It’d recently undergone a change of ownership when Reyes bought it from my dad. The idea of Reyes as a business owner warmed the cockles of my heart. Whatever those were.
“He has a brother,” I said, still stunned at the possibilities of it all.
“He has a brother,” she agreed.
This I had to see.
* * *
I wound around tables and chairs to get to Cookie. Fortunately, she’d grabbed us a spot before the mad rush hit. Ever since Reyes took over, the place had been jumping. Business was always pretty good, but with a new owner who was also a local celebrity— Reyes made national news when the man he’d gone to jail for killing was discovered alive—and the addition of a brewery in the building adjacent to the bar, patronage had tripled. Now the place was packed with men who wanted the fresh brews and women who wanted the brewer himself. Hussies.
I walked stiffly past the worst hussy of them all: my former BFF, who’d apparently decided to move in. Jessica had been at the restaurant every day for over two weeks. Most days more than once. I knew she was hot for my man, but holy cow.
Clearly, I’d have to say yes to Reyes soon. This was getting ridiculous. He needed a ring on his finger—and fast. Not that that would stop them all, but hopefully it would thin out the horde.